Blood Drunk Love Drunk

The snake is a snicker-snack Vorpal blade fanged with moonlight.
My kingdom is ashes and wine. My neck a fluted glass smashing
open to welcome incisors to drink ruby red time. Counting stars
in Hell is like pulling teeth. If I dress in taffeta and lace,
am I a ballerina or backstage whore? Glamorous slut of indulgence.
A Jezebel to the prince, courtesan to the king, the general’s girl.
This year was the year of excess, this year was the year of ruin,
of IV drips through lover’s lips and crystal palaces of danger.
Fuck me harder, love me softer, crack my ribs and make a corset.
I’m blood drunk love drunk stoned as a bird falling slap dash
into your arms, my angel, my demon, so bang me high and holy,
scratch the chromium paint off my mouth, and unearth my lost air.

Cabin Fever

Everything is crumbling, the swallow’s nest is frozen over,
the trees are bare and moss eats the corpses of old lovers.
Winter berries red as blood are the only fruit in wickedness,
this place is cursed, my heart is ice, and winter is far too
long.

Joan of Arc

Swords rust with blood, but the sheath renews
my girl is a knight of twelve blades, red blue.

My girl screams ruin and wonder, my lady shines
like rain, she rides into battle on honor divine.

So heavenly, the way she plucks my pinions and bites
my lip, sashays her hips in a way belying her might.

She is a dancer, a moon maiden wanderer, sailing
on ballerina toes to the safe harbor of my wings.

I bleed only for her glory, scream her name as night
leaves me barren in the wake of her ghost, no light.

No light at all but a promise, and I am a selfish king.